And Wells does so in a hillariously weird review, with the whole
thing in questions directed at Fieri, basically accusing him
of never even setting foot in the place.

All 50 questions are worth a read, even down to the tasting
notes at the end ("The well-meaning staff seems to realize that
this is not a real restaurant.")

But these are a few of Wells' finest zingers:

Why is one of the few things on your menu that can be eaten
without fear or regret — a lunch-only sandwich of chopped
soy-glazed pork with coleslaw and cucumbers — called a Roasted
Pork Bahn Mi, when it resembles that item about as much as you
resemble Emily Dickinson?

When you have a second, Mr. Fieri, would you see what happened to
the black bean and roasted squash soup we ordered?

Hey, did you try that blue drink, the one that glows like nuclear
waste? The watermelon margarita? Any idea why it tastes like some
combination of radiator fluid and formaldehyde?

And unsurprisingly he complains about the
buzzword-heavy menu, calling it a "whirling hypno wheel"
where "adjectives and nouns spin in a crazy vortex."

It almost makes us want to go check out the horror show for
ourselves.